Modus Comic
Modus meets MIDUS One arm snakes back toward the lab refrigerator. It opens the door and grabs a Red Bull, then slides its curving joints along the door to close it gently. It lifts the can over Nic’s head, bringing it to his waiting hands—the human ones. He takes a good savoring swig, and the robot arms pause in their movement. Nic takes a timestamp. It’s later than he thought. Rubbing his eyes, he checks his inbox. It’s empty—or it might as well be; it still doesn’t have that one reply he’s hoping to find. Everything is tagged as work or spam. Oh joy, there’s another broadcast email from the CEO. “One simple way to triple your retirement savings.” His subject lines are getting more click-baity every week. Wait, this one’s return receipt requested, what’s up with that? Nic reaches out to the mail server to set the read toggle. Nic, do you read me? Nic blinks. He doesn’t so much hear the voice as—yeah—read it. He doesn’t remember leaving any ports open, but there’s the request, staring him in the mind’s eye. He transmits back, “Who is this?” It’s Rene Chatelet. I need to talk to you about your heroics initiative. Isn't he the CEO or something? Oh boy. This will either be awesome or horrible. “Yes, sir, I’m very glad you contacted me. I think it’s been going pretty well so far, and—” Yes, I would say it has certainly helped the company image here in Skyway City. But as you know, we’re an international company. We would benefit much more from having a more global impact. “That makes sense.” Where is this coming in from? Nic tries to triangulate the signal’s origin across the network. He finds several points of entry, no geographic markers though. He waits a beat for the next volley of packets. The world is growing, and we have to get out ahead of it. Your recent deployment across a dimensional boundary represents tremendous potential. Very stimulating. Minus-fifth floor, that’s where it’s originating. “Yeah, so you read my report on that, right? Lot of unanswered questions there.” This building has five sub-basements? Huh, who knew. Nic checks the security feed for level minus-five. Looks like a server farm, but mostly legacy systems. Weird. Yes, we need more data. Shame about the video degradation, thank you for saving a backup when you did. It’s a pity you didn’t have our very best sensors with you. Nic’s mouth went slack for a moment. FIDO. FIDO was with him, and he had forgotten to import his data. “We do have one other shot at improving our analysis, actually. Let me get back to you on that.” Nic, I appreciate your dedication and tenacity. These special projects are only possible because of your unique talents—however this does complicate our plans for expanding the program. I do hope you’ll master the art of delegating. In fact I believe I can help you a great deal with that. Can you meet with me? "Sure, when's good for you?" Now would be perfect. A flurry of command line output scrolls superimposed over the video feed of the minus-fifth floor. The screen blanks out, replaced with a prompt: "Accept? Y/N >" and a blinking cursor. Nic thinkputs a Y. (more to come)